Psyche, who had boarded the carriage, slowly relaxed her tense body.
Her neck, which she had kept stiff to avoid appearing weak, now ached.
The Marquess of the Border had offered her his private carriage, but Psyche firmly declined.
She didn’t want to give rise to unnecessary rumors, and she had somewhere she needed to go.
As she repeatedly inhaled and exhaled sharply, she took a small note from her bosom.
> [Miss Clement, I am staying under the same sky.
If you come here and ask for someone named “Hermes,” you will be able to find me.]
The beautifully written script made her head throb.
It seemed this man had already been confident she would come looking for him — hence this note.
The fact that she had to meet again with a man she had desperately hoped never to see again made her feel wretched.
She reached into her clothes once more and handed some money to the coachman. The cramped carriage, where her knees nearly touched those of a stranger, began to rattle loudly as it set off.
Leaning back against the rough wooden seat that boasted terrible riding comfort, Psyche closed her eyes.
—
* * *
“I humbly ask for your help, Your Grace.”
“Miss Clement.”
“Please help my father receive proper treatment. I beg you.”
Their second meeting took place in a quiet, secluded teahouse — clearly the man’s consideration.
In the Sigurd Empire, where men and women were not permitted to be alone together, this choice likely protected Psyche from disgraceful rumors.
Psyche raised her head and met the man’s gaze directly.
Behind him, golden-embroidered curtains created a luxurious backdrop.
But Psyche was in no mood to admire such things.
He was the Archduke’s messenger — a man like a biting winter storm.
In fact, the Grand Duchy of Hier was a region where the seasons were indistinct.
Its barren land and frozen waters were shaped by a constant winter.
Perhaps in such a place, even emotions froze.
Looking into his cold eyes, Psyche found herself thinking pointlessly.
He was a stark contrast to her own warm, gentle nature — a man who showed no effort to be kind.
“You seem troubled,” he said, slowly breaking the silence.
She looked at his pale white skin and the contrast of his red lips — long and thin, barely curved into a faint smile. He looked like a living figure from a classical painting.
It wasn’t just because he was strikingly handsome — his utterly unreadable expression made him even more surreal.
After swallowing dryly, Psyche got to the point.
“If you agree, I will accept the Archduke’s proposal.”
It was a proposal she could not refuse.
Only the Archduke could help with the matter involving the Marquess of the Border.
“Ah,” the man responded quietly.
“But I’d like to hear the details of the terms you mentioned before.”
The man smiled gently.
“As I’ve said, Miss Clement, you will not be able to see His Grace’s face until the marriage.”
“…Yes, I understand.”
Then when and how would she meet the Archduke?
As she nodded slowly with a troubled look, the messenger continued.
“Because of that, His Grace will only visit you after night falls.
The only condition is that you do not refuse him.”
At that moment, as she met his blue eyes, Psyche suddenly realized —
Coming to this man was never a good move.
“What does His Grace want from me?”
She felt an overwhelming sense of shame from the messenger’s words.
To her, it sounded as if he was asking her to sell her nights.
Accepting this proposal would destroy her reputation beyond repair and strip her of her identity.
“I’m not that kind of woman. At least… not before the wedding.”
“If you agree, the promised terms will be fulfilled immediately.
The Clement estate you hold dear will remain safe.”
Psyche had no place left to retreat.
If she gave everything up, she might be able to live a modest life —
Poor, but with her beloved family.
‘But… would I be happy like that?’
Perhaps she could endure life without a title or a mansion,
but her ailing father and the mother who remained by his side would live in torment.
This was the only path she could take.
“I’ll accept it.
But if anything happens to my father, I want you to help him no matter the reason.”
“Of course. You will become part of the Archduke’s household, Miss Psyche.”
Hearing the man’s simple response, Psyche thought:
Even if dreams fall apart, life must go on.
Life must endure.
Only by surviving can the future be planned.
So she vowed — never to lose herself.
Even if she could never return to the Empire again,
Even if she could never see her parents’ faces for the rest of her life — she was ready.
“Accepting this proposal will not be a bad choice for you either,”
the man said.
“I’ll send someone to your estate soon.
You must not tell anyone the departure date to the Grand Duchy.”
But Psyche already knew.
Even if it wasn’t a bad choice…
It would never be a good one.
—
* * *
At twilight, under the sweltering sun, Psyche returned to the mansion on the verge of fainting.
“Welcome back, my lady,” the head maid said, politely bowing and taking her outer coat.
Oddly, the head maid — usually tired and weary — looked unusually upbeat today.
It seemed she was bursting with curiosity, eager to pry into what had happened to Psyche.
Psyche stared at the reddish light streaming in through the window, then slowly spoke.
“Head maid.”
“Yes, my lady. Please, speak.”
“Please pack your things and leave by tomorrow morning.
I’ll make sure your severance pay is generous — you won’t have trouble living.”
“My lady, what are you saying? Pack and leave… Are you dismissing me?”
The maid’s voice, like her flushed face, hit Psyche like a slap to the ear.
“Yes. You understood correctly.
Thank you for all your hard work.”
“My lady! I have served the Clement household loyally all my life!
I was here even before you were born!
Even when all the other servants left, I stayed — and now you’re throwing me out?”
Still staring at the fading light with a blank face, Psyche slowly closed and opened her eyes.
She turned her head to find the head maid glaring with resentment — not a pleasant sight.
“You’ve taken good care of my mother. I’m grateful for that.”
“Yes, and madam would never agree to this either.
This isn’t something you should decide on your own—”
“That’s why I’m giving you a quiet chance to leave.
I said I’d overlook the terrible things you did while deceiving my mother — was that unclear?”
Psyche’s enunciation became sharp and deliberate — a habit that emerged when she was angry.
“Did you
think I wouldn’t find out that you were embezzling from the estate,
and even laid your hands on my mother’s jewelry?”
